House plants do a lot more than we think
November 19, 2007
When I first moved into the dorms many moons ago, my presence was not the only thing that… When I first moved into the dorms many moons ago, my presence was not the only thing that graced the Pitt campus. Nope, I brought the entire Hollidaysburg Armada with me: A sedan and a minivan driven by my mom and dad, respectively, sagging with the weight of things I would never, ever use – whisks, fabric softener and deodorant, for example – and foods I would never, ever eat.
To deal with that issue, I’ve taken a rather Stalinist approach to it all: A lot of the useless, misbehaving junk – yes, rice cooker, I’m looking at you – just “disappears” down the toilet or ends up dead – er, broken. It’s awesome. Currently, however, The Plant is the only member of the original population that has survived my multiple purges.
To be specific, The Plant is a Pothos Ivy, Epipremnum aureum. Pretentious Latin nomenclature aside, it’s basically the cockroach of the plant world; it can grow anywhere, in any conditions. Heck, it doesn’t even need soil or sunlight to grow. Moreover, it can’t be killed.
Actually, that’s not completely true: Its invincibility extends only insofar as you leave it the hell alone. Trying to go all Farmer John on it will end in mild case of death for the Pathos Ivy, especially when you factor in my idiotic horticultural antics.
Freshman year, I concluded that The Plant, like people, needed calcium. So, I dropped in a bottle of antacid tablets, smug that in the process of nourishing my plant, I was also getting rid of yet another useless item.
Long story short, there was some bubbling and the plant started turning yellow. Aghast, I scoured the Internet for a cure. Drawing upon my chemistry-one expertise, I reasoned that strong acid would neutralize the excess base. Two days and a cup of Frank’s Red Hot Sauce later, my plant was effectively dead; only one shoot remained. With surgical precision, I excised the living tissue and transferred it to a tiny 50 mL beaker that I, uh, happened to have lying around. I swore to kick the habit and just leave my plant alone